


you give love a bad name

by cosmogyral



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-24
Updated: 2011-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmogyral/pseuds/cosmogyral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something wet and horrible is being dragged over his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you give love a bad name

Something wet and horrible is being dragged over his face. A whole carpet, maybe. A sponge. Roy blinks his eyes open just as Hayate goes in for a full-frontal attack and only by using years of battle training avoids getting dog slurp in his eyes.

"I'd break the habit," Riza says from next to his head. She's wide awake, propped up on one elbow, and watching Roy with the expression of one to whom dog breath in the morning is completely familiar. "But he's a useful alarm clock."

"He's going to be a useful rug in a minute. Down, boy," Roy commands, and Hayate obediently flattens out on Roy's chest, no longer a puppy and twenty-three pounds of lung-crushing enthusiasm. Roy groans. "Up, boy, up, you little bastard."

Riza raises an eyebrow at him. "That is no way to train a dog."

"I'm taking him on a walk," Roy says, thumbing the sleep out of his eyes, "and then I'm leaving him by the--" but Riza's giving him that look that means _this joke is going to end up with you in a very bad place_ , and he finishes, "--door, when I take him home, like a considerate superior officer?"

"That sounds right," Riza says, and sits up the rest of the way, the blankets falling off her. "Hayate." She points out the door and he bounds through it, waiting expectantly on the other side. "Colonel, hand me that book."

Roy hands her the tactical manual, and she hefts it at the door, closing off Hayate's tragic and emphatic barks. "Right," she says, and leans back down to him, giving him the kind of kiss he pretty much fantasized about from ages fourteen through thirty, inclusive. She pulls back, and he acknowledges, as he winds his fingers through her hair, that her morning breath was not something that factored into these fantasies.

"Fine," he says, long-sufferingly. "You brush your teeth, and I'll walk your dog."

"And then I'll give you your morning exercise until your first meeting," Riza says, wickedly, " _Colonel_ ," and he vaults out of bed fast enough that he gets rugburn on his feet. "Hayate," he yodels. "We're going for a _walk._ "


End file.
